The Yuletide Renewal
by Alien Explosion
Summary: [PreMeteor] A young Cid Highwind meets a woman on this lonely Christmas eve...


Disclaimer: Square Enix owns FF7. 

Author's Note. I am not Spike Highwind anymore. I am Alien Explosion. Comprende? Good. 

Author's Note 2. It's a one-shot, Christmas, Cid/Shera. Oh, and for this story, people in FF7 celebrate Christmas. I have no idea if they actually do celebrate it in the game (but that church in sector 5 looks kind of Christian, eh?).

****

The Yuletide Renewal

It was going to be another Cid Highwind Christmas.

His humble tree was a hill of unwashed laundry. His cigarettes served as inglorious Christmas lights, complete with floating flakes of ash that resembled snow. The kind that wasn't very fun to collect with your tongue and eat. Wires from various gadgets of his scattered about his table were his tinsel, five week old gyshal greens were his mistletoe, whiskey was his spiked eggnog (sans the eggnog), and a demotion for fighting with Lieutenant Dirkway was what the fat guy gave him. Fat guy meaning his superior officer, not Santa. Santa always gave him jack squat. Santa never stopped by the apartment, thus implying that Cid was neither naughty nor nice.

Which was insulting, really. He supposed that having unclassifiable morals could mean that he wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be, but even if he was a real jackass, he could always make some use out of spare coal. Instead he was completely ignored. True, completely ignored by a figment of a child's imagination, but completely ignored, nonetheless.

Cid sat back in his chair, staring out the window by his bed and jingling the ice in his glass. He was staring at a luminescent stained glass window of Saint Joseph in the small church next door, which was holding its annual six p.m. Christmas Eve mass. It was vastly more humble than that flashy, over-hyped military one he had been ordered to attend earlier. This one was a quiet candlelit ceremony serenaded by a Children's Choir, who sang loudly enough for Cid to listen to. 

__

Christmas time is here  
Happiness and cheer  
Fun for all that children call  
Their favorite time of the year

Snowflakes in the air  
Carols everywhere  
Olden times and ancient rhymes  
Of love and dreams to share

It was one of those songs. The kind that made you feel two ways at once. Alone, the lyrics brought cheery things to mind. Togetherness, joy, blah blah blah. But the tune gave it a different connotation. Something about it could make you happy, yet left you with a longing sort of feeling. A very forlorn feeling. It was exactly the kind that exemplified Cid's lonely Christmases. 

Perhaps solitude was his lump of coal. When you had nothing but a dream to sustain you, heartfelt holidays like this were vastly depressing. At twenty-three, he was already estranged from his father, his sister…pretty much all of his relatives. Granted, it was lonesome, but it provided for a significantly shorter gift list.

Fifteen minutes later he found himself outside in the midst of the 27-degree night, fumbling with his lighter in the cold. Cid couldn't stand another miserable minute in that dismal apartment, so he went outside, where he was now miserable _and _freezing. It was a fucking wonderful change of pace. When his lighter finally failed on him, he decided to wander around aimlessly until he caught pneumonia, or at least till he got some sense to go back indoors. Whichever option was fine with him. At least it was something to do. Occasionally his eyes traveled away from the polluted streets and toward the heavens.

Space. Oddly enough, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this world wasn't _on_ the planet, but _enveloping_ it. Its omnipresence was astounding. Cid could stand around for hours just staring at it, wondering and just-

"Contemplating heaven, are we?"

Before he had time to take a look at the speaker, Cid was struck square in the back by a metallic pipe, hurling him down into the street. A boot abruptly collided with his stomach as he lay trying to recover his senses. His mind spun as it withdrew and kicked again, causing him to spit out blood. Finally, a pair of hands picked him up by the coat and shoved his back into the nearest wall, further aggravating his ache. He could smell the man's inebriated breath wafting in front of his face, and before long his assailant's profile came into focus.

"Merry Christmas, Highwind."

Shit. It was John Dirkway.

"You spendin' your holiday alone too? My my, what a co-inky-dink." Cid struggled in pain as Dirkway exerted more pressure on his shoulders. "Same situation here, pal. Boring as hell at my place. So I go out lookin' for some trouble, and then I saw you. And I think 'well hey, there goes Highwind, all by his lonesome on this joyous holiday of holidays. Perhaps he'd like some company.' So here I am, ready to celebrate with my-best-friend. " Dirkway started punching Cid's head in between the recital of his last three words. He let go of the pilot, allowing him to recoil on the floor.

Unfortunately, Cid had forgotten his gun at home, and there were no weapons handy on the floor. He tried to kick Dirkway in retaliation, but he only received more in return. There seemed to be no way out. But, because he was an idiot, he wasn't going to lie there and let Dirkway rape him like that. "F-fuck you, asshole," he gasped.

"Asshole, am I?" Dirkway said derisively. "You're the one that got the both of us demoted, mother fucker, so watch your damn mouth."

"At least…I didn't get half my d-damn squadron killed on that last run," he panted. "How many guys…did you f-fail to cover, Jerkway? Seven? Eight? Real hero you are-"

"-Shut the hell up!" Dirkway served him another kick, this time in the shoulder, and now pulled out a gun from his coat. "I went cruisin' for a bruisin', Highwind, and I got it. Now you've got me chillin' for a killin', and I'm all too ready to oblige."

But Cid, in all his merry agony and pain, didn't waver, even with the moronic poetry. "So go ahead. And then you want to get a court martial and a firing squad to handle your case? I know _you_ don't. You're a coward…you haven't got the balls."

"Shut your mouth."

"Shut it your self, you damn pussy!" The words, complete with the scathing tone, came out unconsciously. He _felt_ himself saying them, but didn't _think_ about saying them. "Come on!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Dirkway screamed, frantic.

"Make me!" He yelled furiously, intent on his objective. "Come on, fucker, go for it! Shoot me!"

Dirkway's grip on the gun trembled, his eyes lit up with a frenzied twitch. "Shut the fuck up before I fucking kill you, dumbass!"

"Then do it!"

THWAK!

Dirkway hit the floor faster than a hooker's panties. Cid lay against the wall, staring incredulously at the crumpled body. He glanced at the assailant. 

She stood over Dirkway, adjusting her glasses as stray wisps of auburn hair free from her bun flapped in the wind. Her other trembling hand was gripping a baseball bat. With a resolute gaze was on her victim, she watched Dirkway with a menacing look, daring the body to regain consciousness. After a while she turned to Cid, with an amazingly different expression than the one she directed at Dirkway. She actually smiled rather benignly at Cid.

"You seem to be dumber than you look, Lieutenant Highwind." With a grin, she extended her hand. "Need some help?"

Cid didn't respond right away. To him, the situation had only grown stranger. He didn't know who this woman was, but somehow she knew who he was. The vaguest memory of her face passed through his mind, but he wasn't sure if it was at the base or not.

"Well, are you going to lie there all night or what?"

"Huh?" He suddenly realized that he had failed to respond to her initial question. "Oh…yeah, sure…Ah, ow, OW!" The mere task of standing up was painful. Damn Dirkway. "…Okay, I'm up. Thanks."

"I'm sorry about John," she said, watching Cid prop himself on the wall. "I can help you get to the hospital, if you'd like."

Cid shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. They'll ask too many questions."

She raised a brow. "Are you kidding? You're in horrible shape! Hell, you can barely even stand, you can't possibly-"

"-Hold on," he interrupted. "Listen…um…"

"Shera."

Well, at least he had a name for the face. "Shera. If the commander finds out that I've been fighting with this jackass again, then who knows what the hell he's gonna demote me to."

"But it was him who was doing the beating, not you!" As honest as Shera was, Cid couldn't help but notice how much that remark made him look like a pussy. "_He_ would be the one getting the demotion for fighting!" 

"Well, that nasty concussion you gave him proves otherwise, doesn't it?"

Her stern expression fell. "I…I guess you have a point. But you could always tell them that I-"

"-No, no, no. No way. I'm not getting you involved." Shera smiled at his chivalrousness, but in truth, Cid really didn't want everyone to know that a _girl _had saved his ass.

"Okay, but what are we going to do now?"

"First," he started, nodding towards Dirkway, "as much as I hate to do it, we'll need to take him some place warm, so he doesn't freeze to death. Shouldn't be too hard to move him. He's drunk, so he won't come to for a while."

So Shera pulled Dirkway's limp body through the littered street, occasionally allowing his head to hit a rock or two by 'mistake'. Cid followed the two, leisurely dragging himself along the wall of the building. They finally agreed to leave him at the local inn, which was fortunately (yet still negligently) left unlocked. All the lights were on and there was even a fire going, but by the sound of Christmas carols echoing from the stairway, the owner seemed to be upstairs with his family. Shera dropped off Dirkway next to the tree, and placed a ribbon from one of the presents on top of his forehead, making him look like a gift himself. Come on, what family _didn't_ want a drunkard for Christmas?

Giggling, Shera exited the inn and turned to Cid. He gave her a funny look.

"Just what are the hell are you laughing at?"

"Hee hee…ah, nothing. Holiday spirit. Anyway, you're next. If you don't want to go to the hospital, then where?"

"Let's just get to my Uncle Jack's. He lives right down the street."

Ten minutes later, they stood in front of the Flaming Phoenix Bar.

"…Your Uncle Jack owns a bar?"

"Oh, did I say 'Uncle' Jack? I meant Jack Daniels. That's who I wanted you to take me to."

Shera stared irately at the smirking man hanging on to her shoulder. Then, smirking herself, she let go of him. 

"OW! What the hell was that for?!"

"You need medical attention, you idiot, not alcohol!"

Cid snickered. She was kind of charming when she was angry. "Geez, don't get your panties in a wad. Look, Francisco, the bartender, is a friend of mine. He went to medical school for a few years."

Her jaw dropped incredulously. "A _few _years? And you trust him with your life?!"

"As a matter of fact, I do, but the point here is that these injuries aren't fatal. He's just going to bandage me up and give me an ice pack, that's all."

Shera rolled her eyes. "And let you see your dear 'uncle', don't forget. Fine then, I'll take you in…"

She picked him up and opened the door, slamming it with unnatural force against the wall. The only soul inside the Flaming Phoenix was a tall man with a thin moustache behind the counter, who sat up with a start and nearly fell out of his chair at the sound of the door. His eyes fell upon his new customers.

"What the…Cid?"

"Hey Francisco." Shera helped him into a stool next to the wall.

"My god, what the hell happened to you?!"

"Got run over by a damn reindeer," he said sarcastically. "I warned you not to get Santa drunk."

"Very funny."

"So you wanna fix me up here or are you gonna gawk?"

Gawking sounded like a fine idea, but Francisco went to the backroom for his first aid kit anyway. Shera took a seat next to Cid, watching him watch her. The discomfort of the moment weighed more on Cid than it did on Shera, and he found himself cursing Francisco's slow ass. And to top it off, she started laughing amusedly, right out of the blue. 

"What are you laughing at now?"

Shera smirked. "You still don't know who I am, do you?"

Shit."…What makes you say that?"

"It's fairly obvious. You don't even remember who I am."

"Well, I'm in pain. It's kind of hard to remember at the moment." Wow. That had to have been the shittiest excuse ever_._ "So why don't you make it easier on me and refresh my memory?"

"All right then," She took out an ID card from her coat pocket. It was one of the standard Shinra military variety. "Shera Cartwright, flight specialist. I did the check on your plane before your last three missions."

How idiotic was this? Was he supposed to remember every damn face in that hangar? No, and that especially applied before take off, when his mind was preoccupied with other things.

"Do you remember me now?" she asked.

"Vaguely."

She shrugged. "Eh. At least you're honest."

Before long, Francisco returned with a toolbox in hand. "All right Highwind, open up your hood and I'll check your spark plugs," he said dryly, taking out some gauze and rubbing alcohol. Sighing, Cid leaned forward so Francisco could examine his bruises. 

"Damn!" said Francisco, as he applied some alcohol to the gauze. "Did you and Cid get into an argument or something, lady?"

"No," Cid blurted out automatically. The remark really startled him. Francisco, of all people, thought that _he_ was going out with Shera?

"No, I'm afraid I didn't do that," Shera said with amusement. "We only met right after that happened. My name is Shera, by the way."

"Mine's Francisco," he answered, dabbing the soaked gauze on Cid's cuts. "Francisco Ortega, unlicensed doctor."

"Yes, Cid already told me."

"Really? I supposed he mentioned that I'm also an amateur attorney, dentist, and rabbi?"

"Not at the same time, I hope."

The two laughed, Francisco nearly daubing Cid's right eye with the gauze. Cid grimaced, clearing his throat. "Hello, my name is Cid, the other guy in the room," he pointed out sarcastically.

Shera chuckled. "Sorry to exclude you, Cid."

Cid was about to shake his head in disappointment, but Francisco held it still with one hand, so he could properly affix the bandages. The bartender soon finished, stood back, and smiled at his work.

"Ain't it a beaut'? Well, you're all good to go, Cid. Anything else?"

"Yeah," he said, adjusting himself slowly on the stool. "I need some ice for my back, and would you please get us a whiskey and a…"

"-Scotch on the rocks."

The two men stared incredulously at the meek looking flight specialist at first, though it was Francisco who encouraged the choice. "All right, way to celebrate your Christmas, girl!" he said as he prepared the drinks.

"I think it is. Thank you." 

__

God, Cid thought, watching Shera. _She sips the damn thing like it was a soft drink._

Francisco handed Cid his whiskey and a bag full of ice. He glanced at the both of them, pulling at his mustache. He grinned at Cid. Cid in turn replied with a 'what the fuck are you trying to imply with that stupid look' look. The bartender winked at him, and then started to clean up the gauze and bandages, scooping the whole heap into the trash. He picked up the toolbox.

"Well, I'll go put this away," he said in an unnaturally casual voice, heading towards the backroom again. "If I don't come back before you all leave, it's because I've found a convenient diversion to leave you two alone together."

The door shut behind him. Cid shook his head as he brought the drink up to his lips. "Ass," he muttered.

Shera smiled fondly. "He really is your best friend, isn't he?"

"For the time being. When he gets back out here, I'm wringing his neck."

"He's a nice guy," she continued. "It's too bad he's all alone for Christmas."

"As opposed to you?"

Immediately following this, Cid knew that was the wrong thing to say. Surprisingly, Shera wasn't in the least bit offended. "Well, I wasn't able to get to my parents this year. But the main reason that I'm alone is because of some stupid decisions I made."

"Like what?"

She sighed, picking up her glass. She stared at it lamentably for a moment. "Like John."

Cid's eyes widened. "John…_Dirkway?_" Shera nodded. "You…you were going out with Dirkway?"

"Up until 5:39 tonight. We had a big fight, I dumped him, and then he just stormed out of my apartment. Fortunately, he got himself drunk afterwards." She sighed, sipping more scotch. "…You know, when I first met him a few weeks ago…he seemed like a really…a really fun guy."

"You thought that psychopath who nearly killed me tonight was a really fun guy?"

"Well, he wasn't drunk at the time."

"I work with him when he's not drunk," he said, holding the ice pack to his stomach. "Believe me, he's still pretty insane."

"Yeah, I suppose so… Hey, what about you? Why were you out and about?"

Cid's hand reached over the counter, pulling out the bottle of Jack. No sense in not taking advantage of Francisco's negligence. "I was looking for a hooker," he answered, refilling his glass.

Shera stared. "You thought that a hooker would be out on Christmas Eve."

"Hey, some people like getting their ho ho ho's on."

It was a ridiculous remark, but nevertheless, Shera chuckled. "You're just as lonely as me, aren't you."

Cid shrugged, shifting his stare over to the dartboard on the opposite wall. Thus began the uncomfortable silence. Shera stared into her scotch glass, watching an ice cube slowly slide down into the crevice between another cube and the glass. 

That was when she remembered. The question that had plagued her mind so seriously earlier that evening. She had meant to ask Cid about it, but with everything that happened between now and then, she had completely forgotten about it. 

"Cid…why did you keep provoking John earlier? Before I hit him?" 

He replied with a very ambiguous tone. "I don't know. It's what idiots like me do when in jeopardy."

"But…but he was threatening to shoot you, and you encouraging him to bring it on. You didn't waver or anything. It seemed like…well, I suppose that this might be just me but…I don't know, it seemed like you had a…a death wish or something."

There came no reply. She looked over at Cid, and saw that he still maintained his gaze at the dartboard, as if she hadn't said anything. She grew apprehensive, wondering what was going on in that head of his. "Well…" she continued. "Did you?"

"Did I what." He finally said.

"Have a death wish?"

He shrugged once again. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. He pissed me off, I was frustrated-"

"-Was that it?" she interrupted.

"Geez, was _what_ it?"

"I mean, were you frustrated? Is that why you kept beckoning him?"

"Dammit, I don't really know, I just…I…"

Cid trailed off, looking over at Shera seriously. _Was _that why he kept persisting? He really hadn't thought about it at the time, just figured that…oh hell, how was he supposed to know? He had spent the past four Christmases alone. Yes, he had been tremendously lonely, but not once did he want to fling himself off of a bridge or anything.

"I really don't know," he said at last, staring out the window. Staring at the twinkling stars high above. "Maybe it_ was_ frustration. I mean, work just absolutely sucks. I've been demoted, and I had Dirkway constantly on my ass…"

"So you didn't feel like you were getting anywhere?"

He sighed. "I guess that's it. Whatever it is, it's the worst feeling to have at twenty-three years of age."

"I've been there." He looked back at her, eyeing her curiously. "There's only so far that trust in dreams can take you on your own, right?"

"Yup." 

"I wonder how dreamers ever succeed in this world, with all the pain and disappointment around them." She said, in a rhetorical sort of way.

But Cid answered it, much to her and his own surprise.

"…They do it with friends."

"Huh?" 

"Friends. Dreamers succeed because people help em out along the way. People support em. Kinda like this holiday. You meet up with all your friends and family again at the end of the year to celebrate Christmas, and at the beginning of the year, well, everyone feels like a million bucks again. They go out and make resolutions, pledge to set and accomplish new goals, whatever. Whether or not they do any of that crap doesn't matter. The point is that the togetherness of Christmastime gets to em. They're inspired."

Shera put down her glass, looking at Cid. "You…you really think so?"

"…Yeah. Yeah, I do."

And, content with this final understanding, Shera smiled at him. No derisiveness anywhere to be seen in it, just a genuine, happy smile.

"Then so do I," she said.

And Cid smiled back, with equaled sincerity.

Cid didn't know what Shera's dreams were. Hell, he had trouble figuring out his own. But that night, he was reluctant to admit, Francisco had succeeded in his motive in leaving the two together. Cid and Shera found something in common, a common pain that, when shared, made it disappear, if only temporarily. 

And so maybe to some people, Christmas was about presents. For others, it was about togetherness and family. But for Cid Highwind, Christmas would now and forever be about restoring the faith. The faith in his friends, and in his dreams.

They left the Flaming Phoenix late that night, ensuring the preservation of a new friendship with a simple exchange of grins. As he made his way back home through the rain of fresh snow flurries, Cid passed by the small church, where the midnight mass was being held to greet the arrival of Christmas. Again he heard the choir's song reverberating into the night.

__

Christmas time is here  
Happiness and cheer  
Fun for all that children call  
Their favorite time of the year  
  
Snowflakes in the air  
Carols everywhere  
Olden times and ancient rhymes  
Of love and dreams to share  
  
Sleigh bells in the air  
Beauty everywhere  
Yuletide by the fireside  
And joyful memories there  
  
Christmas time is here  
We'll be drawing near  
Oh, that we could always see  
Such spirit through the year  
Oh, that we could always see  
Such spirit through the year..

.

No sweeter song ever graced his ears.

Author's Note 3. Wow. This fic had a lot of firsts for me. It was my first one-shot, my first Cid fic, and my first Christmas fic. I actually spent days in front of the computer typing through various different scenarios for this, but I'm very pleased with the final product. Anyway, the lyrics sung by the choir are from the song 'Christmas Time is Here', by Vince Guaraldi. It's from the soundtrack of 'A Charlie Brown Christmas,' and I've been hearing it on Radio@AOL a lot. It really is a pretty, yet kinda lonely song. If you like jazz or Charlie Brown or both, go out and buy the CD.

Hope you all enjoyed, and have a Merry Christmas!


End file.
